Flutes and Lullabies
by Pheather McKelle
Summary: A chance encounter in Hershel's woods leaves Daryl in a sticky situation, made all the worse by the conflicting feelings he has over the camp's new prisoner. Daryl/OC, T for gore and language. Please drop a favorite and a review if you can, they are much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

The bright moon dappled a rapidly moving shadow as it flitted among the trees. Long brown hair flowed like quicksilver over tense shoulders as the figure gripped the thick branch of a massive pine in the center of the dense woods. The cool night air trailed invisible fingers over the tops of the ivory-stained trees, rustling the leaves and enticing crickets to chirp mournful songs.

Alighting in a clearing bathed in moonlight, a slender woman materialized from the shadows of the hulking trees.

She was not lacking for muscle. Her arms and legs were firm and smooth, not too thin nor was there an excess of fat. Long mahogany hair rippled unbound around a smooth, youthful face. Though she was only in her late thirties, wire-thin wrinkles connected her upturned nose to the corners of her Cupid's bow mouth and creased her eyes. This gave her an ageless quality and only seemed to magnify her beauty.

Her sharp emerald eyes scanned the perimeter of the clearing, looking for signs of life, or lack thereof. She angled her face to the wind and sniffed the onrushing breeze. She stopped, paused to consider her findings, opening her mouth partly to taste the scent, and scuttled up a beech to her left.

Her nose was correct; three large figures walked into the clearing a few moments after the woman left.

The man in the lead held a crossbow at the ready. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and thickly built. His face was pointed and covered by a mop of scraggly dirty-blond hair. Stubble coated his chin and upper lip. His eyes were small and, though difficult to see, a clear blue, and darted about the clearing restlessly.

The man behind him was a hair shorter, wiry, and looked older. Though his hair was a solid black, the thick stubble that covered his face was peppered with white. His eyes were piercing and blue, and seemed to be the only thing alive in his gaunt face. A small pistol was holstered to his belt. Though he didn't lead the small party, he had an air of authority.

The last man was an inch or so taller than the first. His muscles looked chiseled and well built. His face was long and severe, with a hooked nose and a shaved head. He carried a long rifle, held at the ready.

"What are we looking for again?" asked the last man impatiently. His voice was deep, with a pleasing southern drawl.

"I told you, I saw somethin'." Said the first man. His accent was thicker and his voice more gravely. A twig cracked from across the clearing. The man with the crossbow pointed it in the direction of the sound and held still for a few moments.

"What is this 'somethin''?" asked the last man.

"C'mon Daryl, we'll find it in the morning." Said the second man. His voice was also accented, but deeper and throatier. The last man rolled his eyes. He muttered something, probably a curse, and started to walk back. Daryl stayed rooted to the spot.

"C'mon Daryl." Repeated the second man. "Shane! Wait up!" he called into the forest. Shane's combat boots crushed the dried leaves below them as he reentered the clearing.

"Rick, all he saw was a walker or wild animal." He protested, hefting his gun. "Let's just go home." Rick looked at the moon, then the horizon. He judged it would be a few hours until the first daylight.

"Fine, we'll find it in the morning." Daryl glowered at Shane and slung his crossbow on his back.

There came a crack from a branch to their right. The woman in the tree cringed. This tree wouldn't hold her weight for much longer. The thin, close-packed branches were starting to give way. She held her breath, hoping they didn't see her. Daryl cocked his head at the tree beside him.

Suddenly, the branches gave way, sending her tumbling down. She landed on her back ten feet away from Daryl with a dull thud. The woman slowly got to her knees and raised her hands in a gesture of peace. The three men aimed their weapons at the woman, neither moving.

"Who are you?" asked Shane, stepping forward.

The woman remained mute.

"Who are you?" repeated Shane, advancing aggressively.

No answer. Daryl stalked closer, crossbow aimed at her head. He was only a few steps away.

"What's your name, girl?" Daryl growled. Impatient, he started towards the woman, intending to bind her wrists. His hand was almost on her wrist when she sprang into action. She swiftly balled her left hand into a fist, cupped the fist in her other hand and, using her right to add momentum, jabbed her left elbow in Daryl's injured side. Without time for a surprised yelp, an iron-hard fist followed. She turned to Shane, who was directly behind her. Too close. She changed tactics.

She grabbed the barrel of his gun, yanked, and then shoved back in his face, catching his nose and making it bleed. Ducking to the side, she rammed her knee in his groin then, using the same leg, twisted her torso so her foot was parallel to the ground, flexed and released her leg, her foot contacting with his knee squarely. There was a faint pop as the knee bent the wrong way, twisting but not breaking. Shane growled and, using his injured leg, kicked the woman's own right knee. She hissed in pain and punched him in the face. He was thrown to the ground. She turned to face Rick, limping slightly, but he had already drawn his gun and pointed it between her eyes.

"I didn't kick him hard enough to break it." Said the woman, breathing heavily.

"I know." Said Rick simply. "Daryl, Shane, you two okay?"

"Okay?!" sputtered Daryl. He was breathing just as heavily as the woman, and wheezing too. "She fucking kicked my arrow wound!"

"Shane?" asked Rick.

"Fine." He growled through gritted teeth. Rick spared a glance for Shane, but returned to the woman soon after. She returned his steely look with one of her own.

"What are we gonna do with her?" Asked Shane.

"Dunno. She's a liability if we keep her in the woods." conceded Rick.

"The hell she is." Daryl spat, massaging his side.

"We can't take her back to camp!" protested Shane, looking wild-eyed at Rick and Daryl.

"We can lock her in the shed." Suggested Rick.

"We can kill her." Shane said this all too eagerly. He looked meaningfully at Rick. "Is she really worth the risk?" Rick avoided the woman's eyes, contemplating what to do.

"You could just let me go and I'll never bother you again." The woman asked shyly. Rick laughed harshly.

"Not a chance." He raised the gun with renewed vigor. She flinched.

"Let's just lock her in the shed." Said Daryl, annoyed. Rick and Shane looked over, surprised. Daryl was usually quiet and content to blend into the background, coming out when something needed to be killed or beat up. He let the others do the talking. This deviation from character was not unnoticed.

"Fine." Said Rick sharply. "Find out why she's here, what she wants, and what to do with her." Daryl looked away from everyone. The woman was secretly relieved but didn't show it. Rick put away his gun and traded it for a length of rope. He deftly bound her hands and blindfolded her with a spare handkerchief. Unseeing, she forced herself to give in to the direction of the men as Rick shoved her towards Daryl. He caught her roughly by the back of her shirt and tossed her in front of him. He guided her through the dense forest, his hands holding onto her bonds.

It took longer to get to the Greene farm then the woman remembered. She could smell it long before she saw it. She guessed her captors were taking detours to keep her from knowing where they were taking her. The truth was, she had seen the Greene farm before, even stole some eggs and a chicken. After the large group moved in and she saw the firepower they were packing, she knew it would be suicidal to attempt something like that again. The first streaks of dawn stained the horizon when she emerged from the woods.

The dense undergrowth and dead leaves under her feet changed to tall grass, then packed dirt and stones. Daryl conferred with Rick and Shane in quiet undertones. She felt Daryl's rough hands grab her collar and pushed her foreword.

"Welcome home." Said Daryl in a monotonous voice. He shoved her into a shack about hundred feet from where the group was camped. A mostly dead oak tree shaded half the shed. Still bound, Daryl attached manacles to her wrists and chained them to the floor. He unwound the bandanna and tossed it on a pile of old, ratty blankets in the corner. The woman shivered. She knew all too well how cold nights could get here, even in summer.

The shack was larger then she expected, but still no bigger then a large lawn mower. The walls were made of thinly spaced boards that allowed thin bars of sunlight to streak the rotting floorboards. Through one of the closer cracks, the woman gazed at the streak of pink the painted the eastern horizon. The roof was taller then expected too, with some of the shingles falling in and sunlight dribbling down.

As Daryl started to untie the rope, he realized her hands and wrists were too thin for the manacles to properly hold her captive. He left the rope on and looped the chains through her wrists.

"You're stayin' here until we can figure out what to do with you." He informed her, testing to see if the chains would hold. He punched her in the face. "Payback." He sneered. The reaction was instantaneous.

The woman rolled onto her shoulders, tucked her knees to her chin, and kicked out, aiming for the belly button. Her aim was true. She heard the breath whoosh out of his lungs and the heavy thud of him dropping to the ground.

She alighted on her feet and, leaning heavily on her uninjured side, began yanking the chain. It wouldn't budge. She got down on her knees and twisted around, displaying astounding flexibility, and yanking the knot with her teeth.

Daryl was sprawled on the floor of the shack. The woman spared a glance from between the fibers of the now frayed rope and continued working the knot. It was futile because Daryl got up, with some difficulty, and yanked her hair. He withdrew a hunting knife from his pocket and brought it to the exposed skin of her neck. The woman was breathing heavily, teeth bared, muscles quivering from their short excursion.

She felt the thin stripe of cool metal touch her warm flesh and flinched, gazing at Daryl with pure loathing. He tightened his grip on her hair and increased the pressure on the knife, drawing a single bead of blood.

"Don't even think about it." He breathed.

He let go of her hair and stowed the knife back in his pocket. Before exiting, he deliberately wiped the hand that held her hair on his pants, exited, bolted the door, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, thank you so much for reading/following/favoriting/reviewing! Comments are much appreciated and help the story progress. **

**~ Pheather**

The sun rose in the sky faster then the woman was used to. The air in the shack quickly got unbearably hot. She was sweating profusely and her tongue felt dry. No one came. She wondered if they had forgotten her, or were just preparing her for interrogation. It was almost sun set now. Her knee throbbed. She tried to set her jaw when she heard the familiar heavy footfalls of Daryl, but her composition wavered when she saw he brought a cup of water and a plate of eggs.

The eagerness in her eyes must have showed because Daryl said, "What, you crazy? These are for me." He scooped a small bit of egg with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. He took a sip of water and set them down on the floor, out of reach.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"A sip of water for an answer?" it was the first words she spoke to him. Daryl eyed her, but brought the cup to her lips. She drank as much as she could before he took the cup away. It wasn't much.

"Lindsey. Lindsey Turner." She glared at Daryl from under her mane of chocolate hair.

"Where you from, Lindsey Turner?" he asked, offering the cup. She hesitated a second before drinking.

"Around here."

"Answer."

"My family was killed. Been hiding in the woods. What's it to you?"

"Where you been camping?" he offered the cup. She turned her head to the side. "This can go two ways. I can beat you up until you tell me what I want, or you can drink the damn water." She drank again.

"Bastard." She glowered. He didn't even bat an eyelash. She remained silent.

"You owe me an answer girl." She set her jaw, glaring coldly at his small blue eyes.

Daryl stood up and yanked his knife out of its sheath. He methodically brought the sharp tip to her chin. The polished metal reflected the setting sun sharply and momentarily blinded her. She closed her eyes and felt the tip nick her chin.

"Answer, or it'll be a lot worse for you." He threatened.

"Nowhere. Been kinda a nomad." She finally answered after a short pause.

"Where you been keeping your supplies then?" he asked, keeping the knife out. He drew it closer to her arm. She quivered, a hot sweat breaking out. Her muscles jumped when the quick slice of the knife split the taut skin of her shoulder. She hissed under her breath. He shifted over to the other shoulder. "Where you been keeping your supplies?" he asked again, the tip of the knife pressing into her skin.

"Daryl… That's a redneck name if I ever heard one." Lindsey mused between flashes of pain. Daryl stiffened but otherwise made no answer.

"Answer." He repeated.

When she didn't answer, he cut her again. She flinched. "I'll be back." He said, wiping the knife on a cloth and exiting the shack, bolting the door behind him. He kicked the cup over, spilling the water, and tossed the food outside.

The next day was agony, even worse then before. She decided it was the thirst that taxed her the most. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, each swallow felt like sand, each breath felt like a death rattle. She even scooted over to the almost dry puddle of water by the floor and lapped up some of the warm liquid. Better then nothing, she thought.

Her shoulder wounds reduced to angry throbs throughout the day. Trying to sleep only made the blood gush faster and eventually she managed to stuff some rags in the cuts until they crusted over with fragile scabs.

Daryl came in all his glory, smelling of wood smoke, sweat, dirt, and making a huge racket that sent several songbirds in the fields flying. He came with his knife and another cup of water. She barely moaned before he brought it to her lips. She drank, and this time he didn't take it away. She had almost drained the cup before she started to feel woozy. She inhaled and scented a slightly sweet odor. Lindsey pulled back, but her head swam and she blacked out.

When Lindsey woke, she was still in the shack. The sunlight that streaked the floor had an orange cast, leading her to believe it was sunset. She peeked out a crack and saw she was right. Daryl was sitting across from her, sharpening his knife. She tried to move but was stymied by something heavy on her leg. She looked over and saw her leg had been bound.

"What?" she asked, prodding the bandages with her manacled hands.

"Couldn't damn well do it with you tryin' to kill everyone that went near you." Snickered Daryl, the rasping sound of his whetstone reverberated off into the dusk.

"Why?" she asked. "I'm just the punching bag for the least-educated redneck in the south." She spat.

"Watch your tone girl, we're thinkin' of releasing you." He warned, pointing his knife at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "I gave you all the information you need. What are you gonna do with me?"

"This a'int no monarchy, girl." He said.

"Please, you don't even know what a monarchy is. Why don't you just release me?" she asked.

"'Cus, we got a bunch of dipshits in charge, that's why." He said bitterly. He glanced over when he saw her shift to change positions. She propped her leg up on the stack of clothes in the corner.

"You didn't have to, I was perfectly fine un-splinted." Lindsey spat.

"Hershel said it was a bad sprain." Shrugged Daryl, continuing to sharpen his knife.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own. I have my own supplies elsewhere, I don't need any group to look out for my welfare." She growled. "I don't need any people or…" she trailed off. Daryl looked at Lindsey sharply. Her muscles went ridged, her eyes locked on an unseen image. Suddenly, her body started quivering, her eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed, her body jerking spasmodically.

"Lindsey…?" he cautiously crawled over, placing a hand on her shoulder. She smiled, her body stopped shaking. "Wha-?" In the span of a few seconds, she rolled onto her shoulders, tucked her knees to her chin, and kicked out, firmly planting her feet on his face.

Daryl flew across the shack, his hands cupping his bleeding nose. Lindsey broke the bonds, the rope already frayed. She dropped a small knife, concealed in her boots. She walked over and kicked him beneath the sternum, driving the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping for air. She dragged him over to the manacles, cuffed his hands, and locked them securely in place. Tugged his knife out of his hands and stowed it in her back pocket just as new air returned to Daryl's lungs. She tore a strip of cloth from the clothes and gagged him. He yelled at her through the cloth.

"Shut up, boy." She smirked and opened the door, peering outside. The neat camp to her left had only a few women washing clothes. Beyond that there was a large white farmhouse, and beyond that was a parked RV guarded by a severe blond woman and an older man in a sun hat. Both had guns strapped to their backs.

The woman bit her lip and was lost in thought until a scuffling from behind told her Daryl had almost completed his escaped. She glanced back. His eyes held anger, yes, and something more. Sadness? Pity?

"Whatever." She whispered, shaking herself. She prepared herself for a quick sprint to the woods on her right. One last glance back to make sure Daryl was sufficiently occupied, another to the woman and man, and she ran.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, only a slight limp slowing her. She heard nothing but the pounding of her heart in her ears, which matched the pounding of her legs on the packed soil. She flinched when she heard a gunshot. She looked back and saw, for a fleeting instant until her hair flew in front of her, obscuring her vision, the blond woman and the man taking aim.

She fell on her face when a bullet grazed her shoulder. Blood and dirt spattered her face. She struggled to get up, to ignore the screaming pain in her left shoulder and knee. She scrambled to her feet and forged on, clapping her hand to the wound, not letting herself slow down to assess the extent of the damage.

After a few more seconds, she reached the safety of the woods and leaped into the nearest tree. An arrow whizzed by her cheek and she fleetingly though that Daryl had escaped but she soon forgot as she grasped a branch and leaped away, as graceful as a squirrel. The cascading darkness was little hindrance; she knew these woods like the back of her hand.

Andrea and Dale trotted up to Daryl, guns at the ready. Daryl unloaded his crossbow and slung it across his back. Andrea and Dale traded looks.

"You a'int going after her?" inquired Andrea, looking worried.

"Yea, need to get supplies, don't I?" he snapped, brushing past them. Dale shrugged and shouldered his gun. Andrea hesitated before doing the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I know I said I would only publish a chapter every day, but I finished the story so I'm just going to post the rest of it. Hope you guys like!**

**~ Pheather**

An hour or so later, Daryl shouldered a small pack and walked off into the woods. He was indifferent to the woods. Some found it rejuvenating; he called them tree-huggers. Some hated the woods; he called those people pussies. He paused to slap a mosquito from his face and inspect a tree with an obvious sign of tampering.

Daryl climbed up the tree slowly and somewhat painfully. He inspected a thick limb close to the trunk. The bark had been worn smooth there and on the base of the tree trunk where hands had steadied bodies. He looked around but saw no other signs of tampering with trees until he saw the next tree over, with more smooth bark. He looked at the branch he was standing on, then prodded his wound.

He took a running leap and clumsily landed on the next branch.

"Tree hopper." He muttered, looking from tree to tree.

It was dark when Lindsey alighted soundlessly on a thick tree. She paused and wiped the sweat from her grimy face. Twigs had whipped her as she jumped from tree to tree, carving thin red marks in her exposed arms and face. Her hair was tangled with leaves and small sticks. She grimaced and silently shouted when there came a pang from her calf and shoulder.

Steeling herself, she peeled back the dirty brown fabric of her shirt and inspected her wound on her shoulder. She felt like vomiting when she saw the ripped muscles and exposed tendons in the shallow groove carved by the bullet. She tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shirt and tied it around her shoulder, anchored by her armpit. She shivered when it felt like the rough fabric scraped a raw nerve and sent shocks up her spine.

Daryl camped in the lee of a large boulder by a stream. Only three walkers bothered him, none of whom gave him too much trouble. He lost an arrow, though, when it embedded in the scull and would not come out. He built a low fire and huddled by it's meager warmth. The one squirrel he found was now roasting on a spit, the juices dribbled down into the fire, making faint sizzles as it struck.

Daryl wrapped the thin blanket he brought tighter around his broad shoulders. He peered into the darkness, wondering where the trail of trees would lead him.

The next day, Daryl stomped the fire out, shot an intrusive walker, and clambered up the tree he camped near. He inspected it for signs of recent wear. He mentally shrugged and decided to follow it anyway.

Lindsey ventured out of her tree and stumbled into a lightly flowing river, inspecting it before deciding it was safe enough to drink. She had her back to the dense forest, and faced a small field with trees lining the perimeter. The one worrisome thought that troubled her was the lack of trees surrounding the river. Should a walker or Daryl or something else come crashing through, her only option was one of two trees in hopping distance: one, a thinner, scragglier oak, and next to it a larger, sturdier one.

Glancing around, and seeing nothing, she stripped, yanked off the wrap on her knee, and waded into the freezing water, shivering and clutching her sides as she limped in up to her knees. Her knee reduced to a dull, barely noticeable throb.

Wading further, she was now up to her belly. Taking a deep breath, she dived under and came up sputtering, gooseflesh peppering her body. She dove under again, gently rubbing her shoulder wound.

"Well a'int this a nice place." Said a voice. Lindsey spun around and saw Daryl, leaning lazily against the stronger oak. She cursed. Quickly, she dived to the shore, grabbed the gun she was concealing under her clothes, and aimed at Daryl.

"I'd put that down." He said, aiming his crossbow at her exposed chest. He flicked his eyes down her naked body, pausing at her gunshot wounds.

"You drop yours first." She insisted, keeping her hands on her gun.

"How 'bout you put down your gun, I'll put down my bow, you get dressed, and then we'll talk." Lindsey had a feeling he wanted more to just kill her and get it over with, but she didn't have much of a choice, and she was just as keen to get her clothes on.

Lindsey got out, keeping her arm covering her chest, tossed her gun to the side as Daryl set down his bow, and shuffled to her pile of clothes. She tugged on her underwear and pants, followed by her shirt. Her clothes stuck to her damp form, and, most embarrassingly, became transparent.

She locked eyes with Daryl. None of them moved. A leaf scuttled across their vision, causing both of them to flinch. She stared hard into Daryl's blue eyes, and Daryl glared at her large, green ones.

Suddenly, a growl and the telltale-rasping grunt of a walker broke the silence. From the sound, there were two or more. Glancing at each other one more time, they both dove for their weapons and pointed them at the other. This time they both spared sporadic glances towards the woods.

Two walkers stumbled out. One had his gut torn open and was hobbled by makeshift rope shackles. Obviously he was someone's friend or relative and they had tried restraining him. The other had his neck broken and had the flesh of his right leg sheared off below the knee. He still walked on the stump of his tibia. Lindsey avoided looking at them and instead listened to their shuffling footsteps.

She finally turned around shot the nearest one in the head. Three more tumbled from the woods. She shot a second and, now that she had shown more aggression to the walkers then him, Daryl began firing on the undead too.

Five more appeared from the deepening shadows of the woods. Darkness was falling. Lindsey looked desperately at the two closest trees. She held her ground a little more until twenty or thirty more poured fourth from the woods. They were becoming harder and harder to fend off. She shot one more, spared a glance at the frustration and concentration on Daryl's face, and scrambled up the oak, the numbing effects from the water wearing off and her wounds throbbing with each heartbeat.

She seated herself on the thickest, most sturdy branch, which wasn't saying much. It was still thin, and it shook and creaked with every movement. She carefully walked to the end of the branch and contemplated jumping when she heard an exasperated yell. She looked down to see Daryl, knife brandished, cleaving walker heads in two as the undulating mass converged on the one lone man. Lindsey bit her lip.

Daryl was almost surrounded and was looking for an escape route. He looked up at Lindsey in the tree. He crashed through the mass of bodies and took a running leap. His large arms caught a lower branch and he brought up his knees, attempting to climb the rickety tree but slipping.

In a burst of indecision, Lindsey soared down from the upper branches and, grasping one branch for support and Daryl's hand, began to haul him up. The wound in her shoulder was more intense then ever. She gritted her teeth and dug in her heels.

Daryl looked up, surprised, as he saw Lindsey attempting to haul up his massive form. He finally found purchase among the stumps of long-fallen limbs and grasped a higher branch. With Lindsey's help, he made it to the higher branch, but it was groaning under his weight and wouldn't hold much longer.

"You have to jump!" yelled Lindsey over the moans of the undead. Daryl looked at her critically but made it to the nearest branch and positioned himself so he could easily jump. The branch groaned and sank. He grasped the branch above his head and was about to jump when it gave way. It fell on a pile of walkers and they became entangled in the many twigs and leaves.

Daryl swung his body to and fro, gaining enough momentum to swing over to the larger and sturdier maple. Lindsey flew from one branch to another, dancing delicately on the threshold of death, finally swinging from a rotting branch and letting go as it snapped and fell. She landed with a scuffle right next to Daryl.

Lindsey stood up and looked down at the frothing walkers, enraged that their prey eluded them. A ghost of a grin played at her lips as she saw Daryl next to her in a tree. She reached above her and soon ascended to the very top of the tree where Daryl couldn't reach. She was just reaching for her blankets and knapsack with her food in it when she looked over and saw the walkers had torn it apart and, in their haste to eat her food, tossed her shabby blanket in the river.

She glanced at Daryl, who was unrolling a thin sleeping bag and tied himself to a fat, healthy tree branch not too far from herself. She stared enviously at the sleeping bag, tattered though it was.

Instead she looked at her gun and unloaded the magazine. She checked the number of bullets, and, seeing there were only three left, wished again for her knapsack where her ammunition was stored. She stowed her gun in her pocket and brushed a thin lock of hair from her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yup, this is a short chapter but it's packed FULL of unintentional romance. :)**

**~ Pheather**

The sun soon set. Daryl was glad for the blanket, the night air sent chilly daggers down his spine. His face and ears had gone numb hours before. He cast a fleeting look to Lindsey. She was sitting in the tree, not shivering. His own body was wracked with spasms, he wondered how she stood the cold. He realized then that though she was breathing, it was too rapid, too irregular, and there was no steam issuing from her mouth when she exhaled. She was so cold there was no body heat to warm the air coming in. Daryl looked away guiltily.

_She saved your sorry life_! Protested one side of him.

_So_? Said the other. _She deserves to die. She's kicked and punched you so many times, you can't count! You're supposed to kill her anyways. And she's just some girl_.

_Girl or not, she never did nothing wrong. And she might be __**that**__ girl! _

"Shut up." Daryl said out loud.

Lindsey stirred at the sound of his voice. She sat up a little straighter, determined to look stronger then that shivering coward. She then realized just how cold she was. She peered down, wondering if it was safe to build a fire. The walkers were still tottering around, groaning. As long as there was this many, she couldn't risk it. She could wait until morning. _They should clear up by then_, she thought groggily.

The woman tried to stand, but her muscles cramped and she slid down the thick branch, barely clinging on with frozen knuckles. Her knees wouldn't bend. Even her exposed shoulder didn't hurt, which worried her. With an almost immobile finger, she probed the wound. Blood cracked like ice under her probing touch. Her muscle felt hard, not spongy and soft, and certainly not warm.

Lindsey shoved her hands in her armpits, but this did little to help. She simply did not have the body heat. She again tried to stand and almost fell, if not for the sturdy hand that caught her arm. She looked up to see Daryl, his face impassive, clutching her arm with a warm – or warmer – hand.

"D-Daryl?" she asked, voice cracking, placing a cold hand on the tree to steady herself on unstable legs.

"C'mon. You'll freeze, if you haven't already." He intended for it to be sarcastic, but in her condition, it was very likely. Mute, Lindsey allowed herself to be led to Daryl's branch, which was even thicker then hers. He helped her to get in the sleeping bag and tied them in.

"W-what are you d-doing?" she stammered as Daryl slid in behind her. He moved his arm across her body and grasped her numb hands in his own warm, rough ones.


	5. Chapter 5

It was morning when Daryl awoke. He blinked in the sunlight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. He met with resistance. He looked beside him and saw the girl. Last night's events hit him full-force. He remembered finding her, the walker attack, her freezing…

He tentatively felt her skin of her shoulder, apprehensive that it would be as cold and lifeless as it was before. To his relief, (and annoyance, as he didn't want to feel relieved) the skin was warm and smooth. Daryl looked at her more closely.

Her jaw was stronger then most women, but it still held a youthful look, despite the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her lips had parted slightly and he could hear her steady breath. Her chocolate hair was splayed over the branch. He flicked a stray stand off his person and stood up, stretching.

He walked, with some difficulty, down the length of the branch, and sat down on a higher one. He reached for his knife before he remembered Lindsey took it. He walked back to where she was sleeping and nudged her with the toe of his boot.

"Hey, wake up." He said, annoyed. He should just push her out of this tree and feed her to the walkers, then escape. "Hey, wake up!" he said, more forcefully. Lindsey stirred and opened her eyes, her pupils contracting to the change in light.

"Wha-?" Lindsey's eyes widened when she saw Daryl and her mouth opened when she realized she had been sleeping in _his_ sleeping bag, _all night_. She scrambled out of it and backed onto the part of the limb where it diverged into two thinner branches.

"Hey, quit it! I a'int gonna hurt you. Not yet, at least." He muttered. "I just need my knife."

"It-it was in my knapsack." Lied Lindsey, not quite believing her situation. Daryl swore and kicked the tree truck. While he was distracted, she skipped from branch to branch, landing on another, further away limb. Daryl rolled his eyes and resorted to awkward pacing on his limb.

The day passed in a bright blur. Lindsey and Daryl both got quite sunburned from waiting in the tree. The walkers beneath still had not passed, they were meandering about below, occasionally getting startled and converging on the tree when they made a noise. But they weren't left alone. Some time in the day Daryl got his pack from where he stowed it in a hollow crevice and took out a small, stale loaf of bread. He saw Lindsey eyeing it hungrily. He tore the loaf in half and tossed one up to her. She caught it just in time, inspected it, then scuttled to the highest limb she could reach and devoured it.

The hot day worked on Daryl's nerves. By noon the back of his neck was lobster-red. It frayed his delicate fuse until he started yelling.

"Why did you have to save me, woman? I'm perfectly capable of saving myself! Gimme another few seconds and I could've killed all those walkers! We wouldn't be in this mess!" He kicked a loose twig from the tree.

"Yea, and I'd be your captive, or you'd call Rick and Shane and the rest and have them cut down the tree and bring me back to that shed." She retorted bitterly. Daryl scowled.

"Not my fault you went all bat-shit crazy on me'n my group." Growled Daryl.

"And I suppose it's my fault you led them to me?" Daryl remained silent. "How did you even know I was here? I never went near the Greene's after your group came." Lindsey glared from atop her perch.

"Saw somethin' in the woods, though I'd check it out." He mumbled lamely. "What's it to you?" he regained his anger.

"You've never seen me before you caught me in the woods." Accused Lindsey. "What led you here?" she asked again, but there was less anger in her voice this time. Daryl thought quietly. Lindsey rolled her eyes and amused herself with a twig.

_It was dark and clouds covered the moon and stars. Daryl walked bitterly back to his tent after Shane started an argument with the group. He flung open the entrance flap and ducked inside. He mused about the argument in his head for some time before falling into an uneasy sleep. _

_He was in the forest in the back of the Greene farm. His feet were following an unfamiliar game trail. He walked for some time, the woods pulsing with color. The wild animals followed serenely behind, as if they too were in a dream. _

_The trail led him to a clearing swathed in moonlight. The source of the gentle silver glow was in the center of the sky. A woman hopped down from a tree. She was cloaked in swirling silk that whispered about her supple body. Her face seemed to glow with radiance from within. She was utterly stunning. Faint flute music could be heard in the background. The woman danced to the music, the fabric making her look like a fey creature. Her chocolate hair billowed behind her like a waterfall. _

_As she came closer, he detected the faint aroma of pine and wood smoke. She smiled, and it was the warmest, most beautiful smile he ever saw. It lit up her large emerald-green eyes. But just like that, the dream faded and he awoke crying. He sat up, startled to find his face wet. He growled to himself and wiped his grimy face with an equally dirty sleeve. _

Daryl shook himself and looked at Lindsey. She looked just like the woman.

From Lindsey's pocket she withdrew a knife – his knife – and began whittling off the bark of the twig she was holding. She then carved a notch in one end and hollowed the whole thing out. Daryl realized she was making a crude flute. He shivered, despite the midday heat.

Next Lindsey carved out nine finger holes. She put the flute to her lips and blew. It sounded much like an owl. She tested different finger patterns, making new notes and sounds. She began to play a simple melody. It wasn't the complicated, multi-versed song he heard in his dream, but the notes were similar.

"Will you quit that racket?" he snapped, adjusting the crossbow on his back. Lindsey glowered at him but tucked the flute in her back pocket. Daryl half-wished she kept playing. "And gimme back my knife!"

Lindsey defiantly stuck the knife into the base of the trunk. She crossed her legs and looked away. Daryl scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'll give you back your knife if you tell me how you found me." Said Lindsey teasingly. Daryl glanced up where she was, smirking.

"What're you, negotiating or what?" he said sarcastically. "Not a story I'd like to share." He said curtly.

"Then no knife." She said with mock sadness. Daryl growled and stalked off to the edge of his branch. Lindsey rolled her eyes, took off her shoes, and clumsily to a more substantial branch, her knee sometimes swinging out at an odd angle. Holding her hands above her head, she stepped foreword and did a cartwheel in the tree.

"What the hell are you doing?" demanded Daryl, looking worried, annoyed, and angry at the same time.

"Keeping my skills sharp." She replied. She then tucked her hands to her sides and flipped. She did a few other gymnastics maneuvers before sitting down and massaging her knee. Daryl looked away. "Got any water?" she asked.

"Yes." was his curt reply. He dug into his bag and pulled out a canteen. "Don't drink all of it." He cautioned.

As the sun was setting, Lindsey took out her flute and played a lilting harmony that danced like the flight of a bird from note to note. Daryl half-recognized the tune from a memory suppressed and had no desire to relive it. This time he didn't complain and was almost saddened when Lindsey stopped playing. Almost.

"Thank God." He muttered, shifting so he didn't have to look at her. She tentatively crawled down the branch, keeping her distance. Daryl turned at the sound of her scampering to yet another branch.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, exasperated.

"What are we doing about… sleeping arrangements?" she asked, momentarily looking at the sleeping bag. Lindsey blushed. Daryl turned a blotchy red.

"I suppose we'll sleep together…" he trailed off. "Well?" he demanded gruffly. "Get in." Lindsey cautiously crept to the thick limb, limping slightly. She inched in the sleeping bag, gazing intently gazing at Daryl all the while. Daryl got in behind her, like the night before, and settled in awkwardly. Lindsey was more comfortable then he.

The night was a little less comfortable then the last, with survival not a priority for the sleeping arrangements. But this time Daryl kept his hands to himself. He tried not to breathe in her smoky pine scent too deeply but he found it intoxicating and soon drifted off to sleep, his face buried in her hair.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, so I spent a lot of time on this chapter, trying to think if I should put this scene in there, and so I did. Tell me what you think! OMG, I'm so excited, I think this is my second favorite chapter!**

**Anyways, the song is Vienna Tang's ****_Lullaby for a Stormy Night_****, I do not own the song. **

**~ Pheather**

When Daryl woke up, Lindsey was gone. At first, he wondered what had woken him. He heard nothing new. Then he heard a sound, like an owl hooting. She looked up and saw Lindsey perched on a thinner limb playing her rough wooden flute.

"Shut that racket up girl, I'm tryin' to fuckin' sleep here!" he yelled, chucking a stick at her. She nimbly sidestepped and continued playing. With a jolt he realized it was the song from his dream.

Even weighed down with a twisted knee and a bullet wound in her shoulder, Daryl privately thought to himself she was the most graceful human being he'd ever known. Her sense of balance allowed her to do perfect yoga on a tree branch without faltering, even when he shifted his heavy body, rocking the tree.

"How do you do that?" he asked suddenly. Lindsey peeked at him from under her eyelid as she slowly exhaled and got down from her Tree Pose.

"Practice…" she said slowly. "And raw talent. I doubt you could do that and not fall to your death." She commented dryly.

"I could if I wanted to." Said Daryl, drawing himself up to full height. Lindsey smirked.

"I doubt it." She lightly leaped from the branch she was standing on, which was considerably thinner, and landed with a faint scuffle near Daryl. "Here." She grabbed his left arm and swung it over her own shoulder. "Try and do the Tree Pose." She said. Daryl recalled how her foot bent to contact with the top of the thigh. He managed to get it a little above his knee before he wobbled uncertainly. Lindsey held on with unswerving patience as Daryl righted himself.

"I don't need no woman keepin' me up." He scoffed, smacking her hand away. Lindsey stepped back, faint amusement tugging her lips. She watched as he brought his hands to his chest like he was praying and tentatively lifted his leg so it rested on the side of his knee. He swayed too and fro as he tried to find a center of balance, his hands occasionally coming apart as he tried to steady himself on the tree branch.

Suddenly, he lurched foreword. Lindsey dived towards him and grabbed the back of his shirt and righted him. Daryl was painfully away of her bare skin brushing his, her scent pervading his nostrils. He shrugged his sleeveless shirt back into place, blushing crimson.

"Yoga's stupid anyway." He mumbled, climbing, with some difficulty, to his sleeping place, where he took out another hunk of stale bread and tossed some down to Lindsey. She caught it and munched on it thoughtfully.

The sun had completed its daily arch in the sky, coming to rest in the crook of the sky. The sky threatened rain as dark, fast-moving blue clouds gathered on the horizon. Lindsey sat in the uppermost bows of the tree, silently watching the sun run its course. The day progressed in much the same manner, with each person taking turns watching the walkers below. They never ceased their relentless march around the tree and surrounding area.

"A'int you gonna play?" asked Daryl. Lindsey looked at him in surprise.

"I guess… What should I play?"

"Somethin' nice." He said decisively.

Lindsey took the flute out of her back pocket, turning the soft wood over in her hands as she wondered what to play. A deep roll of thunder jolted her back into awareness. She looked at the sky, the clouds already blotting out the fast-sinking sun. She saw a lance of lightning and, a few seconds later, the distant boom of thunder.

Daryl seemed restless, pacing on his branch and glancing at the sky before resuming pacing. Lindsey too fidgeted more then usual. As the shadows lengthened, she crawled down to the sleeping branch and scooted in, ignoring Daryl's look of annoyance.

In the middle of the night Daryl awoke with a scream.

Lindsey bolted upright. The man beside her, who for several days had been steadfast and indifferent, was sobbing, curled in a fetal position.

Rain pelted their forms, wetting her hair until it clung to her shivering form in a long, tangled mat. The sleeping bag stuck to their bodies, the damp cloth proving little more barrier then their clothes, which were likewise soaked.

Lindsey twisted around so she saw Daryl. He appeared to have been woken up by thunder because when the next blast of concussive sound assailed their eardrums he cried out again and covered his ears.

Pity welled up in Lindsey as she saw the sight, but remembered Daryl probably wouldn't like that. She cradled his head in her lap, quietly stroking his hair, and she began to sing.

_Little child, be not afraid, _

_The rain pounds harsh against the glass, like an unwanted stranger,_

_There is no danger,_

_I'm here tonight. _

_Little child, be not afraid _

_The thunder explodes and lightning flash _

_Illuminates, your tear-stained face_

_I'm here tonight_

_And someday you'll know, that nature is so_

_The same rain that draws you near me falls in rivers and land_

_And forests and sand_

_Makes the beautiful world that you see_

_In the morning_

Daryl relaxed with each stanza, the lines in his face slowly uncoiling. He unclenched his hands. Lindsey continued to sing, stroking his sandy hair.

_Little child, be not afraid_

_The storm clouds mask a beloved moon_

_And it's candlelight beams, so keep pleasant dreams_

_I'm here tonight_

_Little child, be not afraid_

_The wind makes creatures of our trees _

_And the branches to hands, they're not real, understand_

_And I'm here tonight_

_And someday you'll know, that nature is so_

_The same rain that draws you near me _

_Falls in rivers and land_

_And forests and sand_

_Makes the beautiful world that you see_

_In the morning_


	7. Chapter 7

**Yes, this chapter is also really short. Please forgive me! The next ones will be longer and better!**

**~ Pheather**

"Daryl!" yelled a man. Both people in the tree recognized it at Rick. It was coming from the other side of the river.

"Rick!" Daryl yelled. He bolted from the sleeping bag, oblivious to the night before. Lindsey shot from it at almost the same time, leaping to the uppermost branches.

"Daryl?" came the questioning answer.

"Over here!" he yelled. There came a shuffling and talking as Rick and his team scurried over to the river. The walkers below were waiting at the stream. While it was neither deep nor swift, walkers seemed to have a perpetual fear of water. They stayed near the shore, growling.

Rick emerged from the woods followed my Shane, Dale, Andrea, Hershel, Glenn, and T-Dog. They stopped short when they saw the amount of walkers lined up by the river. Rick signaled to his team and they mowed down the walkers one by one. They all fell into the water, some were carried with the current, and others remained on the bank and soiled the water with congealed black blood.

"Get behind the tree." Daryl whispered. Rick and the others hadn't seen her yet. Lindsey easily concealed herself behind the massive tree trunk. Daryl rolled up his sleeping bag, hastily packed his supplies, and clambered down the old oak, jumping the last ten feet and landing with a grunt.

"What happened?" asked Rick, looking at the bodies of the walkers that were strewn about the riverbank.

"Was lookin' for the girl and got myself treed. Do you have any water?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Rick nodded and gave him a canteen. Daryl drank from it gratefully, droplets running down his chin. He handed the canteen back and mopped his face with the back of his hand.

"Did you find her?" Rick asked.

"No, but I saw her a couple of times. Been scoutin' her trail. I think I'm close. Or at least, I was." He added. "Ran out of supplies. I was gonna go back and get some more when those damn walkers treed us."

"Us?" asked Rick, looking at the tree.

"Uh, nothin'." He replied. Whether or not Rick believed him, he motioned for Daryl to follow. He adjusted his crossbow and trotted after the group, not speaking or looking at anyone. He turned around to refill his canteen and, while nobody was looking, glanced at the tree. Lindsey's face peeked out from behind the trunk, masked by leaves. He gave her a curt nod that was lost to the preoccupied group and continued on his way.


	8. Chapter 8

Once she was sure they were gone, Lindsey dismounted the tree and quickly headed for the riverbank. She lost her blanket, but buried beneath the bodies was the remains of her knapsack, two boxes of ammo, a water canteen, a box of matches, and an extra sweater.

She donned the sweater and stowed the ammunition and matches in the sweater's pockets. Making a running leap, she fastened her hands around the low-hanging branch of a colorful maple and swung onto a thicker branch. She skimmed from tree to tree, startling squirrels and birds and, once, a sleepy raccoon. She landed in her home tree, a large, hollow pine that wasn't tall, but wide.

Lindsey slid down into her safe hollow and emptied her pockets on the rock that served as a table. She grabbed a blanket and stowed it in an extra knapsack she kept in a shelf. She donned a cloak over her sweater and, using worn handholds, she exited the tree, shoved the loose piece of bark in place that served as a door, and hopped down into the clearing.

Daryl refilled his bag and quiver and set out again shortly after dinner. He followed the rough game trail until he came to the clearing. He looked about for signs of life. He inspected the beech where she concealed herself and the trees around.

He stood up and sniffed the air. He could smell nothing new. He heard a soft thud behind him. He whipped around, crossbow at the ready. The cape billowing around Lindsey's thin frame reminded Daryl of his dream so much he looked around to see if the animals were still docilely following him.

"What are you doing here?" Lindsey asked, throwing back her hood and letting her mane of russet hair flutter in the slight breeze.

"Coming to finish what I started." He said gruffly, raising his crossbow. Lindsey flinched, but didn't move. "Take out your gun." He commanded, moving closer. Lindsey shook her head. "Take it out, damnit!" he shouted hoarsely, walking foreword.

"How did you find me?" Lindsey asked coolly.

"TAKE OUT YOUR GUN!" there was absolute stillness in the air. Even Lindsey's hair stopped blowing. Daryl was now closer then she would have liked. She smelled his thick, musky sweat. Daryl let out a sharp laugh and dropped his crossbow.

"You're lucky I've kept you alive!" he yelled, pointing a finger in her face.

"So are you." Replied Lindsey. Daryl dropped his finger. His face was inches away. "Why?" she asked.

Daryl walked to the end of the clearing, his hands on the back of his neck, elbows pointed down. He crossed his arms, took a deep breath, and spoke; "The dream." He walked back. Lindsey paused, puzzled. He continued on hurriedly. "I had a dream," He said, "and the girl in it looked just like you, happy?" he demanded.

Lindsey was expecting him to say, well, not that. It took her by surprise. Her green eyes looked misty.

"Why didn't you kill me? You had my knife, you could'a stabbed me in the back or somethin'." He asked, calmer now. Lindsey remained mute, but a tear slid down her cheek.

_The night was dark, the familiar moon shaded by clouds. Lindsey huddled in the crook of a branch, trying to fall asleep. She was rocked into an uncomfortable sleep by the rhythmic swaying of the tree. _

_She alit in her clearing from her tree. She was dressed in flowing silks. A flute played somewhere in the depths of the forest. She didn't know why, but she started dancing. _

_A man, flanked by wild animals, appeared at the edge of the clearing. She saw him and, for some reason, danced over and smiled. He tried to smile back, but couldn't. The animals, though staying peaceful, enclosed the man in their furry embrace and pulled him back into the forest. The forest erupted in flames and walkers came out of every crevice. She leaped into her tree, the one tree that wasn't burning, and woke up. _

"I had a dream." Her voice was hoarse. "You were in it and…" she trailed off, lost in thought. Daryl shook his head.

"You had a dream?" he demanded, shaking her by the shoulders. "What happened?!"

"I was in a clearing. You came in with wild animals around you…" she stopped again. She realized she was crying.

Daryl let her go and stared at her with… Remorse? Grief? _Love_? Impossible.

"I have to go." Lindsey broke away from his grasp and bounded into the woods. Daryl stood in the middle of the clearing. The clear bright moon shone in the middle of the night sky, adding her silver accents to the otherwise dull night.


	9. Chapter 9

**No, I did not stick to the plot line, it wouldn't fit with the story. Sorry, but Randall was never in the picture. :(**

**~ Pheather**

Daryl stalked back to camp in a bad mood. He plopped down in his tent, unaware of the night sounds. He was roused from his trance when someone walked by.

"Leave me be." He growled. The figure stopped and groaned. Daryl realized it was a walker. A gunshot broke the silence. The walker froze in indecision, then wandered to the gunshot. Daryl shot out of his tent and planted his knife in the walker's head. He looked around for more. A hundred, possibly more, poured from the woods, their mournful cries grating on his ears.

Daryl ran to the house, trying to warn the Greene's, but Hershel was already outside, picking off walkers one by one. Patricia, Maggie, and Beth were fleeing the house, and Andrea was heading off with the bag of guns.

Daryl took out his knife and stabbed the nearest walker in the eye. He followed up with a second, third, and fourth. Behind him, his group was similarly engaged. Gunshots from Hershel's rifle punctured the ever-constant groans of the walkers.

The farm was soon surrounded. Daryl was doing his best but was dismayed when he saw the sheer numbers. Someone had set the barn on fire. The walkers inside were shrieking with whatever pain they still felt. It cast an orange glow on the surrounding lawns, illuminating the silhouettes of walkers before them.

Amid the turmoil, Daryl dropped his knife. He grasped for his crossbow but found it caught on the hem of his pants. Three walkers were closing in, gnashing their teeth. He turned away from them to get his crossbow off his person. When he looked back, all three were dead.

Confused, he stared around the lawn, trying to find the source of the kill. Rick and Carl were exiting a now bloody RV, and Hershel was still shooting foes.

"Wha-?" he stopped when a flash of auburn hair lit his peripheral vision. Lindsey appeared, stained with the blood of numerous walkers, a mischievous smile on her face. She brandished a hunting knife similar to his own in one hand and held his knife in the other. He gazed at her in wonder. She put a finger to her lips and sprinted away, taking out walkers as she did so.

Daryl shook his head and smirked, continuing to hack at the already mangled corpses in front of him. He glanced over at the house and saw the women, laden with belongings, dart to the cars. He killed one last walker and was about to run after them when he remembered Lindsey.

He saw her near the burning barn, surrounded by walkers. He was about to call out when she caught his eye. She nodded solemnly, her jade eyes huge with sadness. Daryl nodded back and loped to his motorcycle.

He turned the key and listened as the sometimes-faulty engine sputtered to life. He nudged the kickstand out of the way and roared away. He spotted Carol meandering through the fields. He paused and allowed her to come aboard, her arms encircling his abdomen. He spared a fleeting look for Lindsey. He couldn't see her anywhere.

Daryl pushed her from his mind and returned to driving.


	10. Epilogue

"Come on, Uncle Daryl!" commanded a child's high-pitched voice. A small girl with long black hair emerged from the depths of a prison. Following her was a tall, broad-shouldered man.

Age hadn't done much to Daryl. His muscular form was perhaps less so. His sandy hair was paler, and the stubble on his face was peppered with silver. The bags and creases around his eyes were more emphasized.

He walked patiently behind the girl, her white dress billowing in the wind. She smiled and skipped down to the perimeter of the fence, peering into the cool, inviting woods. She hopped about a well-worn path that wound around the fields and buildings of the prison. Daryl adjusted the crossbow strapped to his back that he never left home without.

The girl saw a butterfly and was off chasing it.

"Don't go too far, Judy!" Daryl called after her. Whether the child heard or not, she still ran after the white butterfly. In the years that the prison was abandoned, new trees had grown near the perimeter of the fence and older trees got bigger and their branches leaned over the top. Daryl sat down in the shade of an older oak's bowed branches covered in summer leaves.

A twig cracked. In a flash, Daryl stood up; the crossbow was off his back and aimed into the woods. Nothing seemed amiss. His small eyes peered into the darkness, scanning the vegetation for walkers, wild animals, anything.

Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around quickly and saw the upside down face of Lindsey Turner. Her legs were hooked over a low-hanging branch. Her mahogany hair was still fine and lustrous, with a streak of gray adorning her long bangs. Her face still retained it's youthful look, but the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were deeper, and there were more of them.

She smiled, her upturned nose crinkling. Daryl's mouth opened in disbelief. She didn't talk, but inspected his face, looking at what age had done to him. He allowed her too, still recovering from seeing the woman he thought to be dead for nine years.

"How did – Lindsey?" He asked. She shushed him by grabbing his face and kissing him. Just as he started to reciprocate, she broke the embrace, smiling sadly. She looked at the prison, then back at him. He nodded.

She waved good-bye and grabbed the branch she was holding, pulling herself up. With just as much grace and balance as when she was younger, she trotted along the branch of the tree, scuttled up the trunk, and bounded from tree to tree.

Daryl stood rooted to the spot, not quite comprehending what just happened.

"Uncle Daryl?" asked Judy, looking quizzically at the man pointing his crossbow at nothing.

"Nothin'. Let's go back inside, think this hot air's gettin' to me." He shook his head, clearing it of thoughts, took Judy's hand, and led the downcast girl back inside the prison.


End file.
